Gone With Darkness
by CrystalFNfire
Summary: Laine likes Los Angeles, but because of a terrible secret, she finds herself back in her hometown of New Orleans. Apprehending her 27th birthday, she meets a wolf named Fury, and she realizes her world will never be the same again.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sherrilyn Kenyon's Dark-Hunter series has progressed much since I first began writing this story. For those of you that have been reading them faithfully, I estimate this story to take place between Sins of the Night and Unleash the Night. I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 1

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She entered Sanctuary not as a human, but as a supernatural being. That meant she reserved the right to not have her mind touched if something out of hand happened.

Though she had not been inside the bar for three years now, she had called Mama a few hours earlier for a room and a job opening; people seeking safety at Sanctuary did not pay, but earned their keep. Similarly, everyone who sought safety with the bears was in trouble of some kind, and she was no different. In southern California, the Los Angeles area, she did not have to worry about anything (mostly Daimons, though she had made some enemies among other things as well) tracking her, as it was overcrowded with humans and had a small supernatural population. However, New Orleans had nearly an equal human and supernatural number; most humans just did not know it.

Laine always had Daimons coming after her, and she already knew that it was not because of her looks or that they were fans of her work. Though she made a good living in theatre, she had not yet made it to Broadway, and she knew she needed quite a few more years under her belt before she could even make it to the big screen.

No. The Daimons did not care a lick (that was her "Southern" word for the day) about what she did, but what she was. Though she was human (mostly), she had been gifted with powers beyond any ordinary being. As she liked to put it, _My mother gave me a little more than just a birthday suit_. Her mother was a psychic and her father had been an especially powerful half-Apollite, who had ironically died at the age of 27, like any ordinary descendent of the sun god.

Her parents had left her with the ability of telekinesis and a weak form of telepathy. Some of Laine's friends that knew about her called her an empath, meaning she could sense others emotions when around them. Distance, was, of course, a factor, and if she should touch someone, the link acted as a channel, and she received better "signal" and could read the other person's thoughts.

She had looked into it in her years at college and found that some professor had come up with the theory that some people were born with a sixth sense, where they could feel the electric impulses that other people's brains sent out. It explained further that if that person would touch another, the electrons from one person would jump to the other, which still contained the brain's impulses. That would explain why she could read other's minds, but because science seemed to take the magic out of everything, she had stopped studying it.

One of the quadruplets helped her with her things and carried all three of her suitcases up the stairs at once, which caught quite a few stares from the girls in the bar. Even Laine still found the strength of the were-bears amazing, and more than one of the cubs good-looking.

After washing up and laying out some everyday things in her room, she changed into the Sanctuary work clothes that she found in one of the drawers in the massive dresser across from her bed and started downstairs. Greeting some old friends, she followed Mama Peltier's gesturing hand behind the bar. Grabbing some glasses and beer bottles, she smiled that Mama had remembered her traditional position behind the bar.

Soon, she was as busy as a bee and could not be happier. The men that sat at the counter and the ones that came to the bar began to give her strange looks, and from their emotions, she could pick out that most of them were bewildered and a little scared to approach her. Since she had known most of them, she became self-conscious and wondered if she had something on her face that made her look uninviting.

The second time she looked down to see if her shirt was clean, she became aware of a presence before her. She whipped her head up and came face to face with a gorgeous, six-foot-eight Goth with long, shiny, black hair and a pair of killer sunglasses that hid his eyes. Her first reaction was to wonder how he managed to walk normally when there was always a five-foot high pile of women drooling at his feet. Her next thought was not so clean, and she blushed as she greeted him, "Hey, Ash. What are you still doing in New Orleans?" As always, Laine found Acheron not only insanely handsome, but also a huge relief on her sixth sense; for some reason, she could never read Ash's emotions from anywhere except for his face, and even then, it was hard.

She had seen him in the huge Louisiana city constantly three years ago, when she had lived in New Orleans, and knowing that being the first Dark Hunter, he tended to move throughout the world, she thought it strange to find him here again.

He feigned surprise. "You're not going to offer me a drink?"

She smiled at his great ability to avoid a question. Acheron was always a mystery to her and never answered questions if he could help it. It was for this reason, and the fact that she was not sure Ash was altogether human, that she never tried to flirt with him. Laine decided to let this one sit, and replied, "I haven't been away _that_ long." Ash never ate or drank anything, as far as she was concerned.

She put a tab under Vane's name as the wolf ordered a beer and she passed it to him over the counter. He raised it in Ash's direction, and disappeared into the crowd. Laine noticed that the Daimons that had been in the bar were scattering left and right, and realized that Ash's theme song, "Sweet Home Alabama," was playing.

The Dark Hunter seemed to have noticed the sudden decrease of customers and sighed. "Better leave now," he said. "I'm always bad for business." He cracked a smile and Laine thought that her heart would leap out of her throat. Ash had that effect on most people. She noticed that the men at the bar were eyeing him jealously, and rolled her eyes.

He turned to leave, then remembered something, and turned back. "By the way, Laine," he said her name so eloquently that she wanted to beg him to say it again. "Lose the fake southern accent. Sorry to break it to ya, hon, but you're officially a true blue Californian now, and the trying-to-fit-in is making the men stare."

With that, he was gone, and Laine was left to stick her tongue out at empty air. "Oh, _you_ can talk," she muttered, indicating the Dark Hunter's mysterious accent, which was slightly Greek, but also seemed Italian at times.

The next time Laine saw Ash was when he walked through the doors of Sanctuary and faded into the darkness beyond. She resisted the urge to go back to her Louisiana accent, which got her quite a bit of unwanted attention. Though she was 26, she had never had a long-term boyfriend or wanted one. Even less attractive was the prospect of one-night stands, so the drunken men literally drooling at her feet were not pleasant sights.

However, since this was not her bar and the men did not have their hands on her, she could do nothing but continue to wipe glasses miserably and give out an occasional drink. The music and glasses swirled together, and Laine began to lose track of time and of the people around her.

When she woke from her reverie, she could only remember seeing everything possible in the underground supernatural world. Daimons, Dark Hunters, Katagarians, Arcadians, Weres of every shape and size, and Laine was even sure she saw a fairy floating around.

Yes, home. "Hey, Laine?"

She turned to find Kyle, the youngest of the Peltier brothers, at the bar, holding a washcloth and a tray in his big, muscular hands. Like all of his brothers, he was beautifully formed, with long, golden hair, stunning blue eyes, and the long, languid body of perfection.

"Hey, Kyle," she answered, suddenly feeling more cheerful. She did not want a steady relationship, but there was no harm in flirting, and this was the only man she had met all day worth flirting with. "Miss me over the years?"

He grinned and raised an eyebrow, lowering his eyes with all the cuteness he could muster. Laine moved her hands over the counter, her palms up, and his eyes changed suddenly, his brows furrowing slightly. Before she could ask what was wrong, he looked up again and smiled. "Well, can't tell you what I miss more: you or your lady-like Southern drawl."

"Sorry kid," she said coyly, noting his sexy, slow accent. "Guess I've been Hollywoodized. Here's your Heineken," she said to the Daimon that walked up to the bar. She knew that he was a Daimon and not Apollite because of the hint of a black mark on his chest that showed from the top of his wife beater that he wore beneath his black leather jacket and because the emotion signals from him were not very clear. He was worried, and… what? She could not make out the exact emotion, but it seemed to be a mix between fear and excitement.

Kyle snarled at him, as none of the bears were particularly fond of the soul-sucking race, but the Daimon only seemed to have eyes for Laine. _Damn it!_ she thought. _I haven't even been back an entire day, and I've already got Daimons trailing after me. _

She met his blue eyes, but quickly looked away, shivering at the hunger she saw there.

He glanced at her one last time and left, joining a group of his buddies at a booth, and Kyle turned towards the girl again. "Being a squire all those years, and still afraid of Daimons?" he teased. "Wouldn't blame you though. That one looked like he wants your soul. Don't go out tonight by yourself, and don't demonstrate any of your powers in front of him."

Laine nodded. She appreciated Kyle's sudden possessive nature, which was a habit of the bears when it came to their loved ones. However, she had never been one to take orders from anybody. Kyle was one who knew about her powers and that she was an especially tasty morsel for Daimons because they would get her powers as a bonus if they took her soul.

Still, she decided to wave it off. After all, it was not as if the Daimon and his friends could attack her here. This was Sanctuary, and anyone disobeying the rules would be punished accordingly. Daimons would not risk a few more months of their lives for something like that; it was too crowded for them to be able to get very far. She put out a few more glasses, as she said, "Doesn't look like I can even if I wanted to. I'm stuck behind this bar until these guys go home." She indicated the row of intoxicated men and rolled her eyes.

"Kinda why I came over," Kyle answered. "I'm waiting in that section over there, and personally, the men aren't enjoying it as much without a pretty gal bringing them their drinks."

Laine feigned a hurt look. "And all this time I thought you just came to chat because you were happy to see me again." She paused and looked at the clock. It was still only nine-thirty, and the crowd looked livelier than ever. She had not waited tables in a while, and just the thought of it brought back some memories. "But, sure, I'll switch. I need to stretch my legs anyway."

Kyle laughed, and Laine found his cologne extremely appealing, especially when it rolled off of his muscular neck. "This late, you need to stretch?" He knew about her dancing as well, and her career as an actress in theatre. She really was a triple threat, with lead roles on her resume in straight plays, musicals, and ballets.

She laughed along, and replied, "In California, this is early."

"Maybe, but I can see Hollywood hasn't reached your make-up, and I doubt it's affect your wardrobe either," he retorted. Laine was notorious for going everywhere bare-faced and wearing jeans and t-shirts. "But if you want, I can ask Mom if you can start a dancing act here on some of the nights that the band doesn't play."

Laine stuck a tongue out at him and took the tray from his hands. "Nah. I don't like the idea of dancing solo in front of all of these people, and besides, I can't pay my stay here with dancing. Thanks anyway, though, Kyle."

She smiled and grabbed a pen and pad of paper and ran ofg to take orders. Though Kyle was correct about her matters in make-up and clothing, she comforted herself by saying that she put on enough make-up to last her a lifetime while in the theater. Her excuse for wearing nothing more than a little mascara was that her face needed to meet air _some time_ during the day.

Within a few minutes, she was busy with orders for both dinner and booze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2

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**

It all started when her shift ended, and she went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

Laine was proud of herself for earning more than enough to pay her stay for the night and getting a little extra pocket money from the tips. She had seen many of her friends in the bar, and had caught up on bits of news and gossip.

She had learned that many of her Dark Hunter friends, including her former employer, Zarek, were now humans, living out ordinary lives as dads and husbands. Though she would never have believed it, Amanda Devereaux, her former baby-sitter and best friend's twin sister, was married to Kyrian of Thrace, whom she had met and liked when working with Zarek. At the time, of course, Zarek had hated him. But then, at that time, he had hated everyone.

She knew about Zarek's marriage to Astrid, and she had been filled with joy to see her abused employer finally happy and living a healthy life with someone to love. Laine had gotten to know the Dark Hunter better than most people, and she still wished to find him and catch up on life.

She had also already known about Tabitha and Valerius, which she had found interesting when she was invited to the wedding. She had never met the Roman general, but had heard Zarek's (and everybody else's) rants and ravings about his brother. Laine also had to infer that relationship, as Zarek never acknowledged it. However, the two seemed to have come to some terms of agreement at the wedding, and Laine had found she liked Val (as Tabitha called him), though she did find him a little too high class for her taste. Tabitha was her best friend, and if there was a less "high classed" person in the world, Laine had never met her, so she had raised an eyebrow when she got the invitation to the reception as well.

Then there was Julian and Grace, which had never seemed strange to her until she dug deeper and found out that Julian Alexander was once Julian of Macedon, a Greek general who angered a goddess and became a sex slave trapped inside a book. Grace had freed him, and the two had fallen in love. Laine admitted that she had had fantasies about her gorgeous college history professor, but in the long run, he still was her professor, and the thought of him as a sex slave was more than a little disturbing.

Some time during the middle of soaping her palms, she found the strange mark in the middle of her lifelines. At first, Laine thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, but when she rinsed her hands off, it was inevitable that they were not.

In the center of her hand, there seemed to be a multi-colored tattoo, perfectly square. Celtic scrollwork was marked intricately in the lines, and though she could not figure out what it said, she was sure that it was not the work of humans.

_What the hell? _She was not one for tattoos, and she could recount everything that had happened that day, so no one could have done it while she was unconscious. It had not been there when she woke up this morning, so no one could have done it during the night either.

On the plane coming here? She had slept then.

It was impossible.

The airline security was so tight these days that a person would not be allowed on with a plastic knife, much less tattoo needles.

Sometime during the day…

But she had no more time to think about it, for at that moment, a man stumbled in, hitting the doors and clutching his stomach. Having worked in many bars, Laine immediately recognized the symptoms and helped the man into a stall. She held back his hair without a second thought, and began to recount what she did during the day. She would worry about the embarrassment of telling that he had gone into the wrong bathroom later.

She waited, but the sound of retching did not come. Her mind snapped to attention, as the man's thoughts jumped into her brain, and she realized that some of the material was fudged. Alarm bells rang in her head. _This could only mean…_

A pair of rough arms grabbed her around the waist and suddenly, she was turned upside down. Laine let out a cry of pain and too late saw that the "sick" man was the Daimon that had eyeballed her earlier. She had been too preoccupied to acknowledge his tall, athletic build and flowing blonde hair, and was now paying for it with blood rushing to her head.

She cursed herself. She should have sense his motives before he even came into the bathroom, but she realized it was not a time to degrade herself. As soon as she was upside down, she found herself out of the stall and on the floor; Laine had gotten too comfortable in LA and had forgotten the agility of the Apollites. The clattering of metal sounded behind her, and she whipped her head around to find two more Fabio look-alikes jumping down from the bathroom window, above the stalls.

The blood was rushing through her ears now, and she could barely make out the first Daimon's voice saying, "Hush, little girl. We're not going to hurt you. You have something we want. Just give it to us and we won't hurt you." Her breathing was so fast now that her lungs were not working right, but her head was clearer than ever.

_Yeah, right_, she thought, _and wander around as a soulless Shade for the rest of eternity?_

But she had to look the part of the innocent girl. Three Daimons she could take, especially with her mother's early training and her powers, but surprise was always a good strategy. Even as a little girl, she had been told to stay away from Daimons, Apollites, and Dark Hunters, in that order. "Please," she pretended to sob. Acting, after all, was her profession, and after that Daimon's little scene in the bathroom stall, she was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. "I don't have much money. Here," she continued to cry, rummaging through her apron to get to her tip pocket. "You can have it. Have it all. Just don't hurt me."

The first Daimon leered at her, and from the sound of the footsteps, she realized the other two were drawing near. The clicking of the boots around her reminded her of spurs, which reminded her of bad cowboy movies and flying tumbleweeds. She was still thinking this as the three surrounded her on the bathroom floor, and it was all she could do to not burst out laughing and actually keep up her character. They looked ridiculous in black, with polished leather boots and leather jackets. It was exactly as if they had just stepped out from a corny B movie.

"Take her," the first commanded. "Drain her, if you want, but remember, _it's_ mine."

Another knelt at her side and peered at her. "How long do you think she'll last?" he asked at last. Laine breathed as if terrified, backing away from them, like a child from its kidnappers, her feet scrabbling for a foothold on the slippery bathroom tile.

"It's strong," the first answered. "It may last almost a year."

Without another word, the third Daimon leaped at her heedless of everything else. She saw the danger and pulled out the dagger from a sheath at her ankle that she always carried with her. With a cry, she aimed upward, and the blade found its mark. The second before he died, Laine peered into his eyes and saw the terror, which caused her to almost retract her blade from pity. The Daimon screamed in pain and burst into golden ashes and disappeared.

"What the hell?" one cried, as Laine leaped to her feet, the dagger still in hand. The bathroom door began to rattle, and it was only then that she found the first Daimon had locked them in. "I thought you said she was harmless!"

"Ames, call Dad!" Kyle's voice sounded, and Laine sighed in relief. "Tell him to get the keys! Hey, who the hell's in there?!"

"Dammit!" the same Daimon cried and whipped out his own set of knives, two long, wicked white blades that protruded nearly a foot from their handles.

The other Daimon started and leaped at Laine, who screamed, ducked his blow, and kicked up. He flew to the left, into a stall, and with her mind, Laine slammed the doors to the stalls closed and locked them. A muffled cursing came from the toilet, but the girl paid him no heed. In the next second, she had the bathroom doors unlocked, and Kyle barged in, a bat in hand.

"Holy shit!" he managed to cry as the last Daimon whirled around and threw a God-bolt. It caught Kyle full in the chest. He flew back into the paper towel dispenser with a sickening smack, and slid to the floor unconscious.

"No!" Laine cried, and rushed forward. The soul-sucker grabbed her hand and twisted down, and she screamed in pain, but her anger only made her mind stronger, and the knife in his hand flew into the air and came dangerously close to Kyle's head. At the last second, she pushed it to the side, and it landed harmlessly on the floor.

With her mind, she pushed the Daimon into the wall, where he came to the same state as Kyle, though he remained conscious. "You're… you're telekinetic!" he stammered, fear in his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Laine screamed in anger. She was not one for cursing, but under the circumstances, she found her swearing perfectly justified. Her blade first caught the Daimon's stomach, then chest, and he vanished before her eyes. Scrambling sounded behind her, and she turned to find her first Daimon at the edge of the window. Quickly, she slammed them shut them with her mind, but it was not quick enough for a Daimon.

He had already escaped in to the darkness.

With him gone, an eerie silence fell on the desolate battleground of toilets and paper towels.

The girl flew to Kyle's side, only to hear another voice cry, "Kyle!" She looked up to find Aimee and her father at the door of the bathroom. They came forward, and Laine touched Kyle's neck.

_Pain. Anger. Can't wake!_

She gritted her teeth against his raw emotions grating on her nerves and found his pulse. For some reason, she could always sense a were's feelings better than anything else's.

"He's alive," she said, and snatched her hand from him so she would no longer have to channel his thoughts. "But he'll need some help."


End file.
